


Princess Clu

by Sed



Category: Tron (Movies), Tron: Legacy (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Crack, Flowery Prose, M/M, Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-28
Updated: 2012-04-28
Packaged: 2017-11-04 12:08:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/393676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sed/pseuds/Sed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What it says on the tin. So named to make sure no one has any illusions that this is a normal story. This was the result of a late night conversation about the Daft Punk "Derezzed" video's jousting scene. You can probably assume where things went from there. This story is not meant to be taken seriously, or as an example of proper adverb usage. It also turned into porn at some point though I'm not sure how that happened either.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Princess Clu

Princess Clu sat in his tower, sighing wistfully as princesses are wont to do, looking out over the vast black mountains that surrounded his gilded cage. “If only _someone_ would come to rescue me,” he sighed. He sighed often. Sometimes he thought he sighed too much, but then he realized that he was alone in his tower, save for the mountains of books and fanciful costumes piled and folded neatly about the room, and propriety was pointless. Lightning ripped through the roiling clouds above, and he jumped back from the window, feeling faint. His gilded slipper caught the corner of a pin-straight stack of adventure novels, and he fell to the ground in a graceful heap. Oh, the books. He stood once more and straightened the ruffles of his black gown, making sure to maintain the curl of the golden ribbons and lace upon his bodice. He would not blame the books for his tumble; they were his closest friends.  
  
Clu often spent his days reading, and when not engaged in literary pursuits he instead only _pretended_ he was reading, and would play fantastic games with himself where he had to read a book as fast as possible, or he would lose. While there was no one to actually lose against, it didn’t stop him from doing his best. Princesses were, after all, meant to be resolute.  
  
His other favorite pastime was perfecting the small space in which he dwelt. While this was easily achievable inside his tower, it became a much more daunting prospect whenever dust from the surrounding mountains settled on the tower’s outer structure. Over time he’d learned where the best footholds were to climb about to dust the walls and pointed roof. As a result he was quite strong, but never strong enough to save himself from his imprisonment, for it was as much figurative as it was literal, for reasons he didn’t fully understand.  
  
He sighed again. On the heels of his frustrated exclamation came a sound Clu thought at first he had only imagined. Was it—no, it couldn’t be. Not the rhythmic beat of hooves upon stone? He dashed to the window and threw open the opulent curtains to push aside the shutters. The drafty zephyr of the tower’s winding stair caught his beautiful auburn locks and tousled them in the oppressively cool air. Stars twinkled in the perpetual night sky, but he could see no sign of a rider approaching in the moonlight. He sighed in a way that expressed his sadness best, for he had learned over the years that there were many sighs, and some were more meaningful and heartfelt than others. He let himself fall upon the bed despondently, wrapping his arms around the pillow he had knitted some years before; its lace covering was a perfect mesh of interlocking hexagons that he had reworked several times until he was satisfied with the result. Unfortunately every time he touched the cloth it nudged the shapes out of place, and he was forced to fix the knitting again the next day.  
  
The strain of his emotional yearning had taken its toll upon Clu, and he quickly slipped into a fitful slumber. In his dreams he was free from his tower, resting against the trunk of a tree, which he had pruned so that all of the branches were the same length and only issued forth from the trunk at even intervals both vertically and horizontally. Birds warbled pleasantly as they dashed among the leaves, and a beautiful stream trickled past, inviting friendly deer with an even number of perfectly aligned spots on their haunches.  
  
“ _Princess,_ ” a voice called to him, but he could not look up. He felt a hand gently caress the side of his face, and for a moment he leaned into the warmth of the touch, savoring the feel of hands worn rough and manly by the grip of a sword. Clu knew that if he awoke to the touch, he would find himself alone once more.  
  
The voice became more insistent. “ _Princess, I have come to rescue you from your tower._ ”  
  
No, it was all a fever dream, a cruel trick of his lonely imagination. In his dream he turned from the hand and despaired.  
  
“ _Seriously wake up._ ”  
  
Clu opened his eyes. Standing before him was a knight, bedecked head to toe in shimmering mail and plate that glowed bright in the moonlight. Across his armor was scrawled a myriad tiny lines and symbols that Clu could not discern, and upon his breastplate four sapphires, each sparkling like the deep ocean as described in the pages of Clu’s adventure novels, were fastened to the sturdy metal. He leaned down and placed his gloved palm flat upon the soft mattress. His bare hand traced another gentle curve along Clu’s cheek. “Greetings, princess.”  
  
Clu felt as though he would faint, but he was already lying down, and so he simply blinked and lay still against the pillow. The knight gazed down at him and waited. When Clu found his voice, it trembled. “Who are you?” he whispered demurely.  
  
“I am Sir Tron, Champion of Thegrid, knight of the realm of System, in service to King Flynn.” He took Clu’s hand in his own and squeezed it gently. “Come with me, princess, and together we shall forge a new kingdom, and live happily ever after as in the fairy tales.”  
  
“I cannot!” Clu pulled his hand back and turned away. “I am cursed to remain here until the Master Control Dragon is slain. If you wish to wed me, you must vanquish this beast. Only then will you win my undying loyalty and the kingdom you so desire.”  
  
Sir Tron stood up. “I already did.”  
  
“You did?”  
  
“Indeed, I shall tell you about it later. For now I shall claim my prize, and your hand, and also the kingdom. But first my prize.” In a flash he had divested himself of his remaining glove and was unfastening the catch of his bracers. Clu watched as the knight stripped down to only his trousers and the immaculate buckskin boots that had been hidden beneath the protective plate. He stood with his hands braced upon his hips, an avaricious grin on his face that made Clu’s heart beat with uncertainty and desire.  
  
“Sir Tron, I am humbled, and grateful that you have freed me,” he placed the back of his hand to his forehead and looked away, “but I am inexperienced in the ways of love.” He felt the mattress dip as the knight knelt upon it. Hands came down beside him on the pillow, and when he looked up, his eyes locked with Tron’s.  
  
“I will teach you.”  
  
Clu gasped as Tron’s mouth claimed his. The kiss was deep and languid, and as the wet heat of a insistent tongue slid between his lips, Clu could feel Tron lay himself down so that the knight’s sword pressed hard against his hip. He pulled away from the kiss and smiled shyly. “Your sword,” he whispered.  
  
Tron smiled and lowered his face to nibble at Clu’s ear. “That isn’t my sword.”  
  
A moment later the hands that had so gently caressed his soft skin earlier were pulling at the ties of his bodice. Clu’s heart fluttered wildly in his chest, and his own arousal grew as he gazed upon the evidence of Tron’s desire, straining against his trousers. With the bodice removed from his person Clu’s gown became a dense prison of cloth and lace. Tron leaned down once more and suckled at the hollow of his throat, his hands grasping the fabric of the gown firmly as he pulled it apart to bare Clu’s chest. His hands and tongue traveled lower, the latter stopping to swirl around one peaked nipple, making Clu grasp the sheets and moan low in his throat. Then hands found his throbbing hardness, and his hips raised of their own accord, seeking more of the rough heat that surrounded and stroked him.  
  
“My knight,” he breathed, and his skirt was suddenly lifted over his hips. Tron slid down and took the full length of Clu’s regal shaft in his mouth. Lips dragged against the silken flesh, pressing insistently and wrapping around him tighter and tighter until they met the base. His tongue played a twisted game that worked Clu into a wordless frenzy as he panted and moaned, grasping at Tron’s hair and spreading his legs to invite the knight’s hot mouth to further explore his body. The invitation was taken, and Tron allowed Clu’s twitching flesh to slip from his mouth. Strong arms wrapped around his thighs and pulled him closer, bunching the soft fabric of his stockings in their possessive grip. Tron made his way lower, and then even lower as his tongue probed for the secret place that made Clu cry out and writhe in ecstasy. “S—sir Tron, you cannot, it’s—it’s too much,” he stuttered as the knight’s tongue pressed into him, slicking his flesh and sending wicked jolts of pleasure through his body, like lightning crackling through the night sky. It seemed an eternity passed before the intruder pulled back, leaving Clu’s legs trembling. Tron knelt between them and slid his masculine hands along Clu’s stockings.  
  
“Now, show me your gratitude,” Tron said. His words were a command, carried on a heavy exhalation that was steeped in uncompromising desire. Clu pushed himself up from the pillow. The torn sleeve of his gown slipped over his shoulder, exposing his perfect skin and making him shiver, though he himself could not tell if it was from the night air or the passion in Tron’s eyes. Clu moved until he was kneeling before Tron, lowering himself so that he could dart his tongue and taste the throbbing tip of the knight’s manhood. Strong hands wound into his hair and urged him down, and Clu obliged, opening his mouth and letting the thick flesh slide against his tongue until it pressed deep into his throat. He swallowed convulsively as Tron jerked forward, and dutifully worked his lips up and down the rigid length until they were barely touching the tip, then plunged back down to take the extent of the knight’s arousal once more. Above him Tron groaned and breathed deeply, muttering filthy words of encouragement that made Clu’s face feel hot and his own erection ache uncomfortably.  
  
“Stop,” Tron said in a low voice that made Clu’s heart skip. Tron reached for the remaining tattered gown that hung in shreds upon Clu’s body and ripped it away, baring him to the cold of the room and the warmth of his coarse hands. A moment later Clu was pressed back against the bed, and the knight moved forward to kneel once more between his legs. Tron lowered himself and pressed his thick manhood against that same place that had made Clu writhe and beg wordlessly before. When he pressed forward Clu felt as though he would come apart; his hands clutched at anything he could reach, and he bit his lip as he was filled more than seemed possible. When Tron was fully inside he pulled out a bit and pushed forward, eliciting a gasp of pain from Clu.  
  
“I can’t!” Clu cried. The response from Tron was to move again, this time more gently, but just as deep as the last thrust had been. The pain that radiated from the point of penetration slowly subsided with each protracted stroke, and Clu found himself lifting his hips to meet the motions, until he had wrapped his legs around Tron entirely and angled himself so that each thrust drove deeper. He cried out and begged Tron to go faster, to give him more, and the knight indulged his pleas. Their bodies were pressed together, rocking against one another as Clu wrapped his arms around Tron’s shoulders and let himself be carried away by the urgent motion of their reckless lovemaking. The sensation of Tron’s body sliding against his hardness was so great that Clu couldn’t contain his climax; he shuddered and gripped the body above him tighter, spilling the slick evidence of his pleasure between their bodies.  
  
Tron was not so easily spent. He quickened his pace, now grinding against Clu in a way that slammed the heavy wooden headboard against the wall of the tower, and the sound echoed rhythmically around the stone chamber. He grunted with each thrust, driving forward faster and faster until he too reached his limit, and with a ragged cry he spent himself deep within the tight warmth of Clu’s body. As he stilled the room fell silent, save for the rustle of the brocade curtains in the cool wind. Clu allowed himself a deep breath as Tron rolled to the side and fell against the mattress. “That was amazing,” he said, awed at the knight’s stamina and the passionate force of his desire.  
  
“Yes,” Tron breathed. He sat up on the edge of the bed and reached for his shirt. Clu slowly lifted himself from the mattress and wrapped the sheet around his naked flesh, suddenly modest in the presence of his heroic rescuer. Tron stood and replaced the rest of his armor quickly, in a manner that spoke of practice and great skill, then held out a hand and assisted Clu to his feet. Clu found it was harder to stand than he would have imagined. His legs felt weak and he shook, but he made his way to the nearest stack of flawlessly folded gowns and plucked one from the pile that would be suited to travel. At the last moment he discarded his cloak; the warmth of the knight’s body would keep him for their journey.  
  
When they left the tower the knight’s valiant steed awaited by the gate. Its coat a pale white that seemed to glow in the darkness in the same manner as its master’s beautifully crafted armor. Tron pulled himself into the saddle with ease, and then helped Clu up behind him in a single swift motion. With one last glance at the oppressive spire they turned and rode forth, disappearing into the moonlit night.

 

~*The End*~

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize to your brain.


End file.
